Trent didn’t remember much of what his old soccer coach had taught him, but one thing he did remember was the old man constantly repeating, “The ball can move faster than any man can run.”

And given that Trent and Ethan were playing two against one, that gave them quite an advantage. One that was lost the moment Ethan decided to try and run with the ball instead of passing back to Trent. It took Conner about two seconds to get possession.

But he still had to get around Trent, and Trent was so not letting that happen without a fight. He ran at Conner, before dropping to the ground and using his momentum to slide into Conner’s legs, kicking the ball away and leaving Conner struggling not to fall. By the time he’d recovered, Trent had already kicked the ball into the goal, holding up his arms to an imaginary crowd.

“Goal!” Ethan yelled. “The young rookie takes down the mighty McKnight in a stunning upset.”

He came forward to clap hands with Trent, both of them turning to click their fingers in Conner’s direction. Trent couldn’t help grinning at the obvious shock on Conner’s face.

“Where’d you learn to slide tackle like that?” Conner demanded.

“I used to play in a league when I was little,” Trent explained. “I guess I still got some moves.”

“Good, ‘cause I need a practice partner,” said Conner. “How about tomorrow at ten?”

“I can’t. Carson Brady’s going to be at the cyberspace to sign his latest graphic novel. There’s no way I’m missing that.”

Conner didn’t look like he had any idea what Trent was talking about, but he nodded anyway. Ethan looked like he understood a little better. “Isn’t he, like, your total comic book god?”

“The best,” said Trent. “I’m so stoked I actually get to meet him.”

“Well,” said Conner, “I still need a practice partner, so . . .” He pointed his water bottle at Ethan. “I guess you’re the lucky one.”

Ethan rolled his eyes.

“Gentlemen!”

All of them jumped, spinning round to see Randall heading across the grass towards them. Trent tried not to groan, hoping Conner’s promises of ‘of course it’ll be okay!’ would turn out to be true. Otherwise, he was sounding out Ethan about an alliance.

“I trust you have a permit to use the field after school hours?”

“Of course.” Conner sounded happy about being asked, which meant he probably wasn’t bluffing. He bent down to pull a note out of his shoe, holding it out in a way that would get him detention for cheek if nothing else.

Randall just glared, taking the note by a corner to study it closely. “Yes. Well, it does seem to be in order,” she said, sounding disappointed. She thrust it back at Conner, who took it with a smile. “May I suggest some anti-fungal spray?”

Trent couldn’t resist. “Have a nice day, Miss Randall,” he called after her. She glared, but did nothing else. Ethan shook his head.

“It’s supposed to be Conner who likes winding up teachers, not you.”

“There’s just something about her I don’t like.”

Conner dropped an arm around his shoulders, obviously bored with the conversation. “Okay, so, if Ethan’s practicing with me tomorrow morning, you can practice with me in the evening, right?”

Ethan rolled his eyes, even more dramatically than before. “Dude, don’t you ever get bored with soccer?”

Conner didn’t even dignify that with an answer. “So, Trent— tomorrow evening?”

Trent grinned, shrugging the best he could with Conner’s arm still wrapped around him. “Great,” he said, and ignored Ethan’s snort of disbelief.

----

Conner always hated losing, but losing while trapped in a comic book? That had to be a whole new low.

He struggled to his feet, the others running to stand around him and help him up. The monster just laughed. “Now,” she said. “To banish you forever.”

“Hang tough, guys,” he said. What else could they do? Their weapons had failed, he didn’t even now if they’d be able to use their zords here . . .

“Goodbye, rangers!” The monster strode towards them. “This is your final chapter!”

Out of the corner of his eye, Conner saw a blur of white. The monster spun, but too late. Trent appeared out of nowhere, in morph, kicking the monster back and landing safely on his feet. “This story’s not over yet!”

“Trent!” Conner yelled, running over to him. The others followed, to stand in a line around him.

“Ready, guys?” asked Trent.

“Yeah!” None of them had to ask what he meant. “Super Dino Mode!”

And then, as a team, they charged.

---

“This has to have been one of the weirdest days ever,” said Conner, pausing with his foot on the ball. “I mean, getting drawn into a comic book? That’s just bizarre.”

Trent, happy for the rest and a chance to catch his breath, replied, “You still think I did the right thing, telling Carson who I was?”

“What else could you have done? I mean, he wasn’t about to believe you unless you showed him. And he’s not going to tell anyone. Dr. O says he thinks he should trust him.”

And what Dr. O said, went. Trent grinned, catching the ball on the side of his foot as Conner passed it to him. He managed to dribble it for about half a meter before Conner caught up with him and got it back.

“And I still can’t believe you didn’t tell me you can play soccer,” said Conner, easily keeping possession of the ball as Trent tried to tackle him. “I mean, I knew you knew some stuff about soccer, but you’re good! You could even play for the school team, maybe.” He kicked the ball through Trent’s legs, spun round him and collected it on the other side. “Come on, keep up.”

They played for a few more minutes, running around the pitch until Trent finally gave up, bending over and trying to get his breath back as Conner dribbled down the pitch and shot the ball into the goal. Surprising Conner with a lucky slide tackle was one thing. Playing one-on-one, with Conner actually putting effort in, was turning out to be worse than one of Dr. O’s training sessions.

“Conner, it’s getting dark.” More dark than light, really. Street-lights had come on over an hour ago, and without then Trent doubted he’d be able to see Conner, collecting the ball from the goal several meters away. “And I’m exhausted.”

“You don’t want to keep playing?” Conner jogged back towards him.

“No.” And just in case Conner thought the fact that he was still standing up meant he had energy left, he flopped down onto the grass.

Conner came to sit beside him, cradling the ball against his chest. “You are good, you know. Why didn’t you say?”

He hadn’t realized he was good. He’d given up soccer for art as soon as his parents had let him. “I don’t enjoy it the way you do.”

“If you practiced, you could probably make a team.” But Conner sounded a bit doubtful about that, and Trent wondered how Conner would react if Trent actually did.

“I don’t want to. Really. I’m happy watching you play.

“Well, you have to practice with me in the future. You’re better than Ethan.”

“Fine.”

Conner grinned, lying back on the grass, still hugging the ball. “Should I start worrying about what else you’re hiding?”

He was just joking. Trent repeated that to himself, turning away to hide his expression. Shouldn’t lying get easier, the more he did it? “That’s about it. I used to play soccer. No other big secrets.”

“Good. I hate secrets. I sometimes wish I could tell people, about—you know. Like you told Carson.”

Trent looked at him in alarm, wondering how serious he was. “Conner, I only told because—”

“I know, I know! I just hate lying.”

Trent hesitated. Again, he felt the desire to tell Conner everything—but he couldn’t banish the thought that his dad trusted him, and that to tell Conner would mean betraying his dad. And telling Conner would mean telling Dr. O. After all, hadn’t Conner promised not to tell Dr. O before? He might have been right to tell, but he’d be right to tell about this as well.

Forget it, he told himself. Change the subject.

“What about Ethan?” he said, trying to turn the attention away from himself, and aware the conversation was becoming more serious than he wanted. “You haven’t told him about us.” And yesterday, with the three of them playing together, Trent had felt more aware than ever that Ethan didn’t know.

“I know.”

“I wish you would,” Trent couldn’t resist saying. “I hate lying too, and it feels wrong, leaving him out. I mean, if you don’t mind him knowing, I could tell him. I could—”

“No, no.” Conner rolled the ball away, turning into his side to look up at Trent. “I’ll tell him. Soon. I promise.”

“You said that before.”

“This time I really will. And if I don’t tell him before—before next week, you can, okay?”

Trent grinned, reaching down to run his fingers through Conner’s hair. “Okay. Thank you.”

Conner smiled back at him. “No more secrets, agreed?”

Trent tried to reply, but couldn’t force himself to say the words. Instead, he took advantage of the privacy the dark created, bending down to kiss Conner’s lips. Conner responded, pulling Trent down further, and Trent let himself forget everything else.

--